


Between Dreams

by lusteralliance (orphan_account)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scars, anyway uhhh casphardt/linspar is whats up, do i care? absolutely please lmk if this bothers you, do i write the same kinda junk all the time? yeah, hey this is super rough i didnt even read it over after writing it, im just lazy and procrastinating my work im gonna go now, linhardt is baby and caspar will protect him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-20 04:11:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20669120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lusteralliance
Summary: Linhardt wakes in the middle of the night, and he feels that Caspar's scars are all his doing.





	Between Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> ghghghhe

Linhardt’s forest green eyes were half-closed as his fingers, smoothed from his books and soft like feathers, drifted from Caspar’s arm to his chest. Caspar watched, transfixed, as Linhardt traced the pale gash that went from his collarbone down to the center of his sternum; the scholar blinked slowly, his fingertips lingering on the scar for an instant, and then he closed his eyes and tucked his face into the crook of Caspar’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” Linhardt whispered, his voice soft, his breaths warm on Caspar’s skin. Caspar ran his fingers through Linhardt’s silky, dark hair, lacing his other hand’s fingers together with those of the paler, smaller one resting over his heart. Linhardt had woken up from a night terror, and Caspar had stayed with him as he recovered. But now, he feared what Linhardt had seen.

“For what?”

Caspar felt a twinge of movement under his ear, which meant that Linhardt had his face scrunched up. The warrior saw Linhardt’s toes curl from where they rested against the pillows, the covers bunched on both their sides like a parted sea, the early moon’s light glistening upon sleek ivory waves.

“I couldn’t heal you….”

“What do you mean?”

Caspar’s hand drifted to his old friend’s face as Linhardt hugged himself closer to Caspar’s chest, his gaze averted to the dresser in the corner of their bedroom.

“You’re covered in all these scars. These awful scars.” Linhardt squeezed his eyes shut. “If I’d only been more diligent in my studies, perhaps I’d have been strong enough to make them go away completely.”

Caspar’s heart twisted, and he lowered his head and placed a light kiss upon the top of Linhardt’s head.

“That’s not your fault. I know you couldn’t help getting sleepy during lectures,” the warrior teased, and while Linhardt usually bristled and smacked his arm, today, he just lay limply upon Caspar’s chest. Something about him felt hollow. “...Linny, what’s wrong?”

Linhardt took his hands from Caspar’s scarred body, and he dug trembling fists into his eyes as his shoulders started to shake. Caspar’s breath caught in his throat, and he sat up in their nest of blankets and pillows and took Linhardt into his arms. He knew Linhardt hated crying, and he knew Linhardt thought that crying meant weakness, and he knew that Linhardt hated feeling weak. He knew that Linhardt hated feeling.

“Caspar…” Linhardt hiccuped into Caspar’s shoulder. “I couldn’t save you….” Caspar flinched, pulling Linhardt away from him and holding him by his arms.

“What do you mean, ‘couldn’t save me?’” Caspar breathed, anger mixing with sadness in the pit of his stomach. 

“From the war, Caspar!” Linhardt cried, wrenching himself away from Caspar’s gentle grasp, and he hugged his arms against his chest as distressed tears dribbled down his face. “You bear the scars of war, and through you, the war lives on...I couldn’t save you from the bloodshed and the hate.”

There were things Linhardt read in his books that brought back memories. He often disappeared to the library and returned in tears, bursting out crying whenever Caspar touched him. Caspar lowered his gaze to the dark, damp spots his lover’s tears left in the sheets. He couldn’t save Linhardt, either.

Caspar hesitated, then reached out and brushed Linhardt’s cheek with his thumb. Linhardt sniffled and opened his eyes and looked up at him, and the soft moonlight pierced the endless depths of his beautiful forest eyes like dappled rays of sun shining through thick foliage. And Caspar saw someone he only ever saw on stormy nights, and after they kissed, and when Linhardt returned from the library trembling, backing against walls when Caspar approached him with concern, screaming when Caspar grabbed him.

Linhardt, afraid. Afraid that everything he knew was fabricated, that everything he wished for was only that; wishes.

“Linhardt,” Caspar murmured, finding it hard to keep his voice steady. Linhardt snuffled against Caspar’s palm, shivering as if he were naked, vulnerable to a freezing gale. “You save me over and over. Every morning when I see your face, you save my life. And every day I get to hold your hand, or, or kiss you, or touch you, you save me.”

Linhardt took in a shaky breath, and Caspar carefully held Linhardt’s other hand, too. “You don’t ever have to apologize for stuff that isn’t your fault. Okay? There’s nothing you could have done to prevent the war. But it’s over now. We’re safe.”

Linhardt nodded softly, then closed his eyes when Caspar kissed him. He didn’t kiss back, as if he wasn’t strong enough. But it was all right. 

Caspar pulled the covers over both of them, and he smiled when Linhardt squirmed and flattened himself against Caspar’s chest, as if he wanted to disappear in his embrace. Even though he was a little taller, Linhardt seemed so small.

“I love you, Linny.”

Linhardt squeezed his arms tighter around Caspar’s neck.

“I love you, too, Caspar...thank you.”

Caspar listened to his shaky breaths become even, and then almost inaudible against his chest. Just like their days at the academy, Linhardt could fall asleep in seconds if he wanted to. Caspar only wished he would see crests glowing in the darkness and birds flying upside down and the professor carrying his head under his arm again, instead of blood, and shrieking black beasts romping in the shadowy recesses of his head, and failure.

Just as Caspar closed his eyes against his lover’s sleek hair, Linhardt turned against his chest with a soft snore, mumbling in his dreams, “No...don’t want...learn…axe....”


End file.
